A Marriage Of Convenience
by Rietta
Summary: When Ianto Jones is dumped 3 weeks before his sister's wedding, she insists he still brings a date. Trouble is, Cardiff women are oddly immune to his charms. Throw in a flamboyant American, a malevolent bartender and the bride from hell, and chaos ensues.
1. Three Weeks To A Wedding

**I own nothing- I'm not that lucky.**

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**Three Weeks To A Wedding**

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Rhiannon Jones was not a woman to cross lightly. This went a long way towards explaining why her younger brother was currently cowering behind a potted plant, as if it might somehow protect him from the tirade issuing from the Welshwoman's mouth.

"…And if you don't have a partner the symmetry of the wedding party will be unbalanced and you'll ruin the photos!" Rhiannon snapped.

"But Rhi…" Ianto began tentatively, falling into silence again almost immediately in the face of her glare.

"Don't say it, Ifan Kai Jones! I don't care if you bloody well have to _pay_ someone- you **are** bringing a woman to my wedding!"

She rounded off the tirade with an impressive exit and Ianto sighed, setting down the potted plant he was supposed to have been watering. Sometimes his sister could be so unreasonable! It was only twenty-four hours since he had been dumped (he winced at the word) and the last thing he felt like right now was flirting. How on earth was he going to find a new date for his sister's wedding in three weeks?

* * *

"I always told you she was a cow, didn't I?"

Gwen Cooper was holding forth to her friends in the Blue Bull pub whilst they waited for the fourth member of their coterie.

"How do you think Rhiannon took it?" Toshiko Sato asked anxiously, glancing at her watch.

Owen Harper (sorry, _Doctor_ Owen Harper) echoed the action and smiled darkly. "I don't fancy his chances." It was unusual for Ianto to be even so much as a minute late.

Gwen checked the time on her phone and sighed. "Poor old Ianto. I can't believe she's taking most of the contents of the flat as well!"

"Yeah, well, poor old Ianto has bigger problems right now, and he's happy to still have a roof over his head."

Three pairs of eyes swivelled to gaze at the Welshman as he dropped into the empty chair between Tosh and Gwen. The latter leapt up to envelope him in a hug.

"How are you, sweetie?" she asked anxiously, and Ianto smiled sardonically.

"Oh, wonderful!" he said airily. "I'm being stalked by sunshine and rainbows and unicorns."

Snubbed, Gwen resumed her own seat with a hint of a pout. "I'm only asking because I care," she muttered, fishing in her bag for her purse. "There's no need to be so sarcastic."

Tosh rolled her eyes. "He's not being sarcastic, Gwen, he's being Ianto."

Sighing, Ianto reached out and squeezed Gwen's hand. "I'm sorry. In my defence, I've had a terrible day."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "You surprise me."

Ianto raised one back and jerked his head towards the bar. "Get 'em in, doctor- I need to save my money to pay for an escort for Rhiannon's wedding."

Owen froze halfway out of his seat, Tosh dropped the beer mat she had been converting into a sundial, and Gwen choked on thin air.

After a moment of stunned silence broken only by Gwen's hacking coughs, Owen grinned suddenly, straightening up. "She took it well then?"

"E-escort?" Gwen spluttered.

Tosh blinked. "This _needs_ alcohol!" she declared, leaping to her feet and whipping the twenty pound note out of Owen's hand. "Do _not_ start this conversation until I get back!" she warned sternly, disappearing in the direction of the bar.

Ianto rubbed Gwen's back soothingly as she recovered her composure, and Owen dropped back into his seat and proceeded to convert Tosh's sundial into a perfectly proportioned model of certain parts of the male anatomy.

He was concentrating so hard he scarcely noticed Tosh return with the drinks until she whacked him round the ear.

"Wanker," she muttered, rescuing the beer mat and crushing it.

"Hey!" Owen protested, rubbing his ear, and Ianto patted his arm.

"I know, I know, it _was_ rather impressive, Owen. You should give up the day job and become a sculptor."

Tosh grinned. "One Hundred and One Ways to Lose a Woman, number sixty-four: give up your career as a doctor and sell origami penises made of stolen beer mats."

Owen rolled his eyes. "You can't _steal_ a beer mat, Tosh!" he protested.

Gwen snickered. "That's because our Tosh is sweet and innocent. You with the dodgy moral code, on the other hand, have made off with three hundred and fifty-two in the years I've known you."

The others stared at her, and she shrugged nonchalantly. "I've counted."

"Shame you've got nothing better to do," Owen snarked. "You two have a special little notebook, don't you? 'Ways to Get At Owen'."

Ianto smirked. "Notebook? Owen, they have a box file, and it's full to overflowing. You're just such an easy target…"

"So what did Ianto do?" the doctor smiled sweetly. "You know, so you can add it to the list."

Gwen squeezed Ianto's hand and both women glared at Owen.

"Wanker," Tosh said again.

Ianto laughed. "The day Owen starts being nice I'll die of shock," he said. "Ergo, I'd much rather he be an insensitive bastard."

"You don't have to be nice to him," Gwen said, taking a gulp of her pint. "We won't report you if you hit him."

Ianto grinned. "That's very kind of you, Gwen. But I reckon if I'm nice to him he might give me a list of escorts to try."

Owen scowled, and Tosh laid a pacifying hand on the doctor's arm. "Ok guys, let's stop picking on Owen and talk about Ianto," she said.

"Thank you!" the doctor sighed, taking a long draught of his pint. "So, Teaboy- escort?"

"Don't call me that," Ianto muttered reflexively as he rubbed his eyes. "Rhiannon says that I absolutely must bring a woman to her wedding, because god forbid I ruin the symmetry of the photos by not having a date."

Gwen wrapped a supportive arm round his shoulders. "I always told you she was a cow, didn't I?"

Ianto smiled wryly. "Watch it, that's my sister you're talking about," he said half-heartedly, giving in and resting his head on her shoulder. "I don't suppose…" he began hopefully, and she wrapped her other arm around him.

"Sorry sweetie." Her hazel eyes were full of regret. "Believe me, I'd _love_ to go with you; but Rhys' Mam is coming for a visit and I can't let that woman in my flat unsupervised. I'd get home and find she'd redecorated or something."

"Tosh?" Ianto begged, and the technician looked stricken.

"Sorry Yan, I'm at a conference in London that weekend," she apologised unhappily.

Gwen smirked. "Well then, there's only one thing for it- we're going to have to send Owen in drag."

Both Owen and Ianto looked absolutely horrified.

"You're off your fucking rocker!" Owen snapped, at the same time as Ianto exclaimed: "I'd rather die!"

They caught one another's eye and Owen grinned. "I'm sure Rhiannon would be happy to arrange that."

Tosh giggled. "No she wouldn't- killing Ianto would result in the wedding being postponed."

"We could kill Gwen and arrange her funeral for the wedding day," Owen suggested maliciously.

"No you couldn't," the Welshwoman retorted, draining Owen's pint in revenge. "Rhiannon and I go to the same church; you'd never be able to get the services to clash."

Owen reached over and picked up Gwen's drink. "Don't worry, we'll think of something," he declared, gulping down the last of the Brains and smacking his lips. "Right, who's for another?"

By the time they left the pub an hour later, Owen had another two beer mats and Ianto had Gwen's word that she **would**find him a date for Rhi's wedding. For all that he loved Gwen, this did not instil him with much confidence.


	2. Two Weeks To A Wedding

**Thank you all for the reviews! So glad you're enjoying it so far.**

**Huge thanks to the fabulous Amethystbutterflys for the beta! x  
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**Two Weeks To A Wedding**

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"I've got six 'no's, three 'I'm busy that day's, two 'my boyfriend would kill me's, one 'how much will he pay me?' and one 'when hell freezes over'." Gwen tapped her nails idly on her desk as she contemplated her list.

A chuckle drifted down the line. "_That last is Suzie, I'm guessing?_"

Gwen grinned. "However did you guess?"

"_I'm psychic,_" Tosh said, then sighed. "_So not a lot of success then?_"

"Not really, no," Gwen agreed with a sigh of her own, glancing up as the lift door pinged open. Her phone slipped from between fingers suddenly gone numb and she blinked. Reaching into her desk drawer for a mirror with her left hand, she picked up the fallen device with her right.

"Sorry sweetie, I've got to go," she interrupted Tosh's anxious questions and hung up, dropping her phone so she could smooth a hand through her hair.

* * *

"Why is Gwen always late when it's her round?" Owen moaned. They were back in the Blue Bull pub for their usual weekly round.

Tosh nudged him sharply in the ribs, and he glared at her. "I'm just _saying_!"

The technician shook her head, the glare lost on her as her eyes never left the door. "No, I mean- _look_."

Ianto and Owen looked, and their jaws dropped. Gwen was sashaying across the pub towards them- and she wasn't alone. In spite of her secret love for Owen, Tosh was visibly drooling as her dark eyes took in the tall dark handsome stranger walking beside her friend.

Owen smirked as the couple reached the table. "Well, well, Cooper, you finally saw sense and decided to upgrade Rhys."

Without batting an eyelid Gwen whacked him round the ear and pulled up an extra chair. "Guys, this is Jack. He just started work in my office and he doesn't know anyone in Cardiff, so I invited him along."

The stranger smiled, impossibly blue eyes twinkling as he sat down and extended a hand to them each in turn.

"Jack Harkness," he introduced himself, and the American twang made Tosh's stomach flip. She flushed, leaping up from her seat.

"I'll get the drinks in," she said hastily, and Gwen dropped her bag on the table.

"I'll help you carry," she said. "What're you having, Jack?"

"Do they do cocktails here?" the American asked.

Owen made no attempt to hide his snort. "Of course not! For one thing, this is a pub; and for another, this is Wales."

He winced as he found his ears attacked from two sides.

"For that, you can pay," Ianto decided, nimble fingers lifting Owen's wallet from his jacket pocket and tossing it to Gwen.

The doctor scowled. "Oi! I paid last week!"

Tosh grinned. "Sorry Owen, house rules. Insult Wales in front of the Welsh and you'll pay."

"Cow," Owen muttered darkly.

"Moo," Tosh retorted, much to the amusement of the newcomer, who laughed loudly.

"I'll have a Bacardi and coke thanks honey," he winked, and the technician blushed and fled for the bar.

Gwen raised an eyebrow and followed her.

"Sorry sweetie, he swings the other way," she murmured as she joined her friend, and Tosh glanced back at the table with a sigh.

"All the handsome men are gay," she quoted resignedly, and Gwen grinned.

"What about Owen?"

They caught one another's eye and burst out laughing, startling the bartender who had just placed three pints of Brains, a Bacardi and coke and a glass of white wine in front of them. Intelligent he might have been, but handsome the scrawny Londoner was _not_.

Hearing the laughter, Owen glanced over from the table and scowled. "Bet you they're talking about me."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Oh, spare us the pity trip or I'll be borrowing your girlfriend for Rhi's wedding."

Owen smirked. "Can't- she's working a double shift in A&E," he retorted.

Jack blinked. "What, a gorgeous young thing like yourself doesn't have a girlfriend of your own?" he asked, winking his thanks at Tosh as she placed his Bacardi and coke in front of him.

Ianto and Gwen simultaneously winced.

"It's a long story," the Welshwoman said, wrapping a protective arm around Ianto's shoulders as she dropped into her seat.

"Summarise it," the American suggested, staring at Ianto.

The Welshman sighed. "It happened last Thursday," he started. "It was our anniversary; I took her out to dinner. I said, 'will you marry me?' and she said 'Ianto, I've been sleeping with someone else and I don't think we should see each other any more.'"

"She didn't?"

"Actually, no. She said 'I've been sleeping with someone _better_ and I don't think we should see each other any more."

Jack winced. "Ouch."

Ianto nodded. "Yeah." He turned to Gwen hopefully. "How's the search for a date going?"

It was her turn to wince, and Ianto dropped his gaze.

"Ah," he said.

Jack looked confused. "Hang on, you asked this girl to marry you last week and you're looking for a new girlfriend already?"

Ianto looked pained. "My sister's getting married in a fortnight and Lisa's dumping me has messed up the symmetry of her wedding party. Rhiannon'll have my balls for earrings if I ruin the photos by not bringing a woman."

Jack and Owen winced. Tosh doodled the word on a beer mat and added the date, confident that it would end up in Owen's collection.

"That sounds like some bizarre and painful form of incest," Jack declared, taking a fortifying gulp of Bacardi.

Ianto raised an eyebrow and turned back to Gwen. "How many women have you tried so far?"

Yet another wince. "Seventeen," the Welshwoman confessed.

Sighing, the Welshman looked at the others in turn.

"I don't know any women in the UK," Jack apologised. "Well, apart from Gwen, but I guess you've already asked her. And my grandmother, but she's eighty-two and your sister might kill you."

Ianto grinned. "Can I add her to my shortlist anyway, just in case?"

Jack laughed. "As long as you promise not to actually date her. I'd genuinely have to kill myself if Gramma had a hotter boyfriend than me."

The others burst out laughing.

"You have a boyfriend?" Tosh asked, and Jack shook his head.

"I crossed the pond to get away from one," he said.

Ianto shot him a sympathetic glance which somehow managed to flawlessly include an eyebrow raised in question.

"His name's John, and the less said about him the better," Jack answered succinctly before turning a dazzling grin on Tosh. "How about you, honey? Surely someone as gorgeous as you has a stunning friend to set Ianto up with?"

Tosh blushed and shook her head. "I don't know that many women," she confessed. "I work with three guys- which reminds me; I _do_ have someone to set _you_ up with, if you're interested."

Jack smiled and shook his head. "I might flirt a lot, honey, but I'm not looking right now." He turned to Owen, his eyebrow raised in question.

The doctor smirked. "I only have to open my mouth near a woman and before I can even utter a word she says 'Whatever it is, the answer is no'."

"That must cause some problems in A&E," Ianto muttered.

Jack looked confused. "A&E?"

Ianto smirked. "Owen's a doctor. If sarcasm were medicine he could cure the world, but unfortunately it isn't, so he has to stick to conventional methods. Oh, and he's also a beer mat kleptomaniac, but we won't go into that now."

Jack grinned broadly. "You guys are weird!" he declared. "I like you."

Ianto laughed. "Just wait until you get to know us- you won't be able to run fast enough."

The American laughed. "I doubt it. You should have met this guy I travelled with once- he reckoned his Volkswagen Fox was bigger on the inside and swore blind that time travel was possible. I tell you, he was off this planet. I fancied him rotten," he finished wistfully, "but unfortunately he was straight."

"Hey, there's an idea!" Owen grinned. "We could find Ianto an alien for a date."

"Very funny, Owen. Now why don't you go back to your origami whilst the girls and I have a grown-up conversation about what the _fuck_ I'm going to do?" Ianto glanced at Gwen. "Did you at least get a maybe?"

The Welshwoman shook her head sadly. "Sorry sweetie."

Tosh grinned, determined to get a smile out of her friend. "Hey, Suzie said she'd go when hell freezes over- I think that counts as a conditional maybe."

Ianto raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Excellent!" he commented. "Now all we need to do is find a way to make that happen. Ah, if only hell actually existed…"

"It does," Jack interjected. "It's a town in Norway."

"Really?" Ianto enquired. "Damn Rhi and her insistence on a summer wedding! Otherwise that cunning plan of Tosh's might just have worked…"

Gwen laughed. "I still say we should send Owen in drag."

The doctor glared. "I swear to god, Cooper, you have a death wish."

Jack's ears pricked up. "Drag? I'll do it."

Ianto tried hard not to laugh. "Thank you for the offer," he said seriously, patting Jack's arm. "But I'm just not _that_ desperate."

The American shrugged. "Good luck with your search then," he said, draining his glass and glancing at the others. "Another round?"


	3. One Week To A Wedding

**Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed! So glad you're liking it so far.**

**Special thanks to my awesome beta Amethystbutterflys, who is made of win. x**

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**One Week To A Wedding**

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A week later, Ianto wished he had not been so hasty to dismiss the idea. Rhiannon had been on the phone every other day demanding if he had found a date yet, and he felt like a man with a death sentence. His one consolation was that Rhiannon could not kill him until _after_ the wedding for fear that it would be postponed, which meant that he'd have a week to go into deep cover whilst she was on her honeymoon.

"What do you think of America?" he asked Jack as he leaned against the bar waiting for the drinks. Over at the usual table, the others were having the usual argument about the correct use of beer mats. A week ago he would have wondered when his life had got so boring. Now, he reflected how much he was going to miss the routine: same pub, same table, same drinks and same faces; all played a significant part in his life. Life just wouldn't be the same without Owen's obscene origami, Tosh's tipsy teasing and Gwen whacking Owen upside the head.

Catching the Welshman's wistful expression, Jack smiled sympathetically. "Still not found a date for your sister's wedding?"

Ianto shook his head resignedly. "No, but I have a new plan," he told the American as he paid the bartender. "I'm going to wait until Rhi's on her honeymoon and then flee the country."

Jack pouted. "And rob me of your dazzlingly good looks and delicious accent? You couldn't be so cruel!"

"No, but I could be so alive!" Ianto retorted. "Besides, it's not as if mine is the only Welsh accent in Wales." He picked up the three pints, and Jack lifted his Bacardi and coke and Tosh's wine.

"But it's the only one with your looks," he argued, following the Welshman back to the table. "And come on, your sister can't be that bad!"

Gwen looked up, mirth flitting across her face.

"It's painfully obvious you've never met Rhiannon, Jack," she chuckled as she took her pint.

The American treated Ianto to one of his special stares. "So introduce us," he said. "The offer I made last week is still open."

Ianto did a quick calculation: the cost of moving to America (financial and psychological) against the cost to his dignity of taking a flamboyant American in drag as his date to his sister's wedding. The latter option won- just. He comforted himself with the thought that he could always use Option A as a back-up plan in case anything went wrong in Jack's crazy scheme. He lifted his pint and drained one third of it in one gulp- he'd need a _lot_ more alcohol before he'd admit his decision. He also suspected that _Owen_ needed to consume a lot more alcohol before Ianto could announce that he would take Jack in drag to the wedding after all.

* * *

Four pints later, he finally felt ready. Not wanting the others to overhear him, he stumbled after Jack to the bar when the American went to order another round of drinks. Unusually uncoordinated, he tripped, landing in Jack's arms as the American turned and caught him.

"Whoa, steady there gorgeous!" Jack wrapped an arm around Ianto to keep him upright and the Welshman beamed.

"Jaaack…" he said happily, drawing out the word and grinning stupidly. "I want you…" he began, but the rest of the sentence got away from him and so he blinked, stopped and tried again. "Will you be my wedding date?"

The words were slurred so Jack had to strain to make them out, but the bartender, well used to Ianto's tipsy Fridays, heard them clearly and grinned.

"Hey, everyone, Ianto's gone bender!" Suzie Costello yelled out across the crowded bar.

Ianto turned scarlet and slumped out of Jack's arms to cower beneath the bar. Drunk or sober, he hated being the centre of attention.

Jack glared at the grinning barmaid. "Gee, thanks!" he drawled sarcastically. "No-one ever tell you that your job is to serve drinks, not yell customers' private business across the bar?"

Suzie regarded him coolly. "If you have a problem, take it to the manager," she said, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder.

Jack leaned closer over the bar. "Oh, I prefer the direct approach," he smiled sweetly. Leaving her to puzzle over his meaning, he retreated out of her personal space, reaching down to haul a reluctant Ianto to his feet.

"Come on, gorgeous, up you get," he murmured, wrapping a firm arm round his waist and half-carrying, half-dragging the Welshman back to their table, where Tosh was struggling to hold a furious Gwen back from decking Suzie. Owen had already gathered their things up ready to leave, and now the doctor hastened (slightly unsteadily, it must be said) to help Jack with the drunken Welshman in his arms. With Ianto propped between Jack and Owen and Tosh literally dragging Gwen, they made their way to the exit.

In the doorway, Jack paused and turned back to grin at the assembled punters, most of whom were pretty far gone already.

"Oh, guys?" he called, his clear tones carrying easily despite the noise. "Drinks are on the house. Say thank you to Suzie!"

He treated the barmaid to another smirk as he watched her disappear from view beneath an avalanche of eager drinkers.


	4. Sorry, What Day Is It?

**Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed; I really appreciate the feedback! I'm so happy you're enjoying it so far!**

**Special thanks and concert hype to my amazing beta Amethystbutterflys x**

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**Sorry, What Day Is It?**

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Ianto woke the following morning with a thumping headache and the sense that he was not alone. Opening one eye blearily, he gazed around as much as he could without moving his head, wincing at the light. Judging by that familiar patch of damp on the ceiling, he was in his own bed at home. Cautiously he peeled open the other eye, just to make sure.

Yep, definitely his bedroom. Right, that was one problem down. Very slowly and carefully he turned his head to each side to check that he hadn't done anything stupid, thanking his lucky stars that Lisa had let him keep the bed, at the very least. He suspected it had more to do with the fact that for some bizarre reason she preferred the air bed than with being thoughtful, but his common sense told him to adhere to that old proverb about never looking a gift horse in the mouth.

To his relief the neat sheets on the other side made it clear that he had slept alone; yet he still had that strange feeling that he was _not_ alone. Biting his lip to keep from groaning, he dropped one arm over the edge of the bed to find something which he could use to defend himself from this mysterious intruder. His blindly groping fingertips knocked over a pile of books with a small series of loud thumps, making him swear loudly as pain ripped through his aching head. Footsteps sounded, approaching the room, and he frantically grabbed the first weapon his hand came to, which happened to be… a sock.

A strangely familiar chuckle sounded from the doorway and Ianto endeavoured to raise his head, blinking in confusion as dark hair and dancing blue eyes came into view.

"And just what were you planning on doing with that?" Jack asked, gesturing to the sock.

Ianto frowned. "Hit you?" he muttered vaguely, attempting to fling the article at Jack. It flew scarcely a metre in the wrong direction before bouncing off the radiator with a soft thump. Ianto winced.

Jack grinned, pushing off the doorframe and coming into the room. For the first time, the Welshman noticed the refreshing aroma of coffee in the air and spotted the two chipped, handle-less mugs in the American's hands.

Putting the mugs down on the floor, Jack slipped an arm behind Ianto's shoulders and helped him into a sitting position, propped up by the pillows. Dropping to the floor beside the bed, the American settled himself cross-legged with his back to the wall, leaning back against the smooth surface.

"Here, drink this," he encouraged, passing Ianto one of the mugs.

The Welshman gingerly took a sip, his eyes widening in surprise as he took a sip: the beverage was astonishingly good. Smiling to see the expression, Jack lifted his own mug and took a gulp of the hot dark liquid.

"I couldn't find any aspirin, sorry," he apologised, and Ianto wondered if smiling would hurt his facial muscles too much. He gamely tried it, and winced. Yep, far too early to attempt such complex displays of emotion.

"Doesn't surprise me," he croaked, wincing again at the rough sound of his voice.

The American rubbed his shoulder encouragingly, and they sipped in companionable silence for a while.

"How're you feeling?" Jack asked at length, and Ianto grunted in reply. The American smiled.

"Yeah, we've all been there. I can nip out and get some aspirin, if you like? I think I remember seeing a shop last night."

A little more alert now thanks to the coffee, Ianto frowned, trying to piece things together in his mind.

"How did you get here?" he asked suspiciously.

Jack smiled again, setting down his empty mug and rescuing Ianto's before he tipped the remaining contents over the sheets as he fiddled with it.

"You got pretty drunk last night," he said evenly. "Owen and I got you in a taxi, and I volunteered to go look after you, seeing as I was probably the most sober of us. The others all agreed; Owen gave me your keys and the driver your address and, well, here we are."

"Oh." Ianto took a long pause to digest this information. "Thanks," he said at length, blushing slightly as he got the sinking feeling that he'd made a total fool of himself.

Jack grinned, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. "No problem." He wiggled his toes, and Ianto found himself bizarrely transfixed by the long slender feet- almost feminine, he thought to himself, smiling as he imagined the appendages in a pair of high heeled shoes. The expression no longer hurt. The moment when he sat bolt upright in horror most certainly did.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, not quite sure whether he was cursing the bolt of pain that shot through his head or the sudden return of some of his missing memories.

"What the hell happened last night?" he demanded.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I repeated my offer to go to your sister's wedding," he said. "You then proceeded to get very drunk, followed me up to the bar and announced your intention to take me up on that offer."

Ianto paled. "How did I ask you?" he demanded. "Please, Jack, you _have_ to tell me!" He grabbed the American's shoulder and Jack squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"You followed me to the bar, tripped into my arms and said…" he closed his eyes, trying to remember Ianto's exact words. "I want you…" The expressive blue eyes opened once more and held Ianto's gaze as he finished: "Will you be my wedding date?"

"Fuck!" the Welshman exclaimed, burying his head in his hands, and one of Jack's, which he had forgotten to let go of.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_, FUCK!" he muttered, chewing his lip hard enough to make it bleed.

Jack shifted into a kneeling position, trying not to move his captive hand as he brought his free hand round to wrap around Ianto's slender shoulders.

Ianto jerked his head up, not even noticing the pain this time. "Did anyone overhear me?" he asked with little hope- he knew he tended to get louder when he was drunk.

Jack tried not to flinch as he delivered the bad news, reaching out a tender thumb to brush away the blood from Ianto's lip.

"I'm sorry, Yan," he said gently. "I'm afraid Suzie overheard and announced that you'd, well, changed your preference," he explained diplomatically. Years later, when he knew Jack much better, Ianto would laugh at the uncharacteristic delicacy of phrasing. In the present moment, he buried his head in his hands again with another exclamation of "Fuck!"

Jack grimaced sympathetically, rubbing a soothing hand up and down the Welshman's arm as he waited for Ianto to compose himself.

Presently the Welshman looked up, an unreadable expression in his blue-grey eyes. "Whereabouts in Norway is Hell?" he asked unexpectedly.

Jack blinked. "No idea, sorry," he answered, bemused. "Um, why?"

"Because dear lord, I hope to god it never freezes over again!" Ianto declared vehemently.

Jack couldn't help it- he burst out laughing.

Ianto glared fiercely. "Ow, watch the head!"

"Sorry!" the American choked, fighting to get his mirth under control under the Welshman's disapproving gaze, which just made him want to laugh all the more.

At length he managed it, sitting back and wiping his eyes.

"Sorry, he repeated more softly, squeezing Ianto's hand. "The offer for aspirin is still open if you need some."

Ianto sighed. "Actually, I think we need to talk about a different offer," he stated.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Don't you want to get up and dressed first?" he asked.

Ianto stared at him. "Why?" he enquired, more perplexed than petulant. "What are we going to do, sit at the kitchen table, our fingers curled round the handles of our coffee mugs? Or did you think we could collapse on the sofa and talk about it there?"

Ianto wasn't stupid- he knew full well that Jack would have snooped around whilst he was asleep. The American instantly confirmed his suspicions by frowning.

"Yeah, about that…" he began, then broke off as if he were afraid of insulting Ianto.

The Welshman rolled his eyes. "Oh, just say it- I know you want to."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You have no furniture," he commented, almost conversationally. "None! Well…" he corrected himself. "One bed and a coffee machine. Lots of books, some mismatched cutlery and chipped crockery, but no furniture except the bed."

Ianto smiled wryly. "I saved the coffee machine," he murmured, almost to himself. "That's all that matters." Snapping out of his trance suddenly, he raised an eyebrow at Jack.

"I got the flat and Lisa got the furnishings," he explained. "Equitable division of the assets and all that. Her cousin had a flat that she could move into almost straight away, and I was just happy to keep the roof," he confessed. "I will furnish it again eventually, when I've found some cash for the task; but Li moved her stuff out in the week and what with work and everything I haven't had time for a trip to IKEA yet. Plus, you know, I was beginning to think I'd have to use the furniture budget to hire an escort for Rhi's wedding."

Jack chuckled. "Really, she ought to be the one paying in that situation, considering she's the one insisting on you bringing a woman," he stated, and Ianto grimaced.

"I'd suggest you put that to her, but I'm not sadistic enough to sit back and watch you get killed."

The American raised an eyebrow. "You know, the more I hear about your sister, the more I want to meet her."

Ianto laughed. "Don't worry, you will," he said. "The rehearsal dinner is on Friday, so you'll get to meet her in less than a week. And then you'll wish you hadn't."

Jack's other eyebrow shot up. "Oh, come now, she can't be _that_ bad!"

Ianto winced. "No doubt you'll have heard of the concept of Bridezilla?" he asked, and Jack nodded. "Well, Rhi has turned into Bridezilla with poisoned bloodsucking vampire fangs, foot-long razor-sharp claws and a pocket full of tarantulas. But yeah, despite being a bit bossy and full on, she's OK usually, and we tend to get on fine most of the time. Otherwise, I doubt I'd be in the wedding party…"

Jack laughed, though there was a hint of envy in his face. "You're lucky," he said simply, then changed the subject quickly as he noted the question forming on Ianto's lips.

"So do you still want to do this? You know, take me in drag?"

Ianto blinked. "Of course! I thought I told you last night?"

Jack smiled wryly. "Yeah, well, I thought I just ought to check in case last night was a drunken mistake and you're now planning on running away to Timbuktu."

"That's Plan B," Ianto said seriously, then nodded once. "Thanks for checking, Jack, but I made the decision when I was sober. I just needed a little Dutch courage before I told you."

The American laughed. "You didn't have to drain Holland though!" he teased. "I don't bite. Well…" he paused for consideration, and smirked. "Only if you ask real nicely."

"I'll bear that in mind," said Ianto, and Jack grinned.

"Right, now that we've had that serious conversation at your hypothetical kitchen table drinking hypothetical coffee out of your hypothetical mugs, I suggest you get up."

Ianto raised an eyebrow as if to ask why, and the American grinned again.

"Well, if we're supposed to look like a couple next Friday, we're gonna have to spend a bit of time together in the interim; and I suspect that your break-up is still too recent for you to want to spend the day in bed with me," he smirked. "Not that I'd be complaining if you did; but I think the best use of the time would be a little jaunt to IKEA to find you a real kitchen table- and hey, if you're lucky, you might even find a mug with a handle too!"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I think that _would_ be a better use of the time," he responded diplomatically. "Though really, you don't have to-"

Jack held up a hand to stop him. "I know I don't, but I don't have any plans for the day. And look at it this way: you have someone to help you carry heavy boxes and put the furniture together. Added to which, it would appear that you drive a Fiat Punto whereas I have a Range Rover Vogue- you might find it useful."

The Welshman raised an eyebrow again. "Brought it over from America, did you?"

Jack coloured slightly. "Ok, ok, I _might_ have blown my 401K on a car…" he said defensively and Ianto laughed, pleased to note that it didn't hurt his head as much now as it would have done an hour ago.

"Ok, you've convinced me. Just let me get dressed…"

Jack smiled and propelled himself to his feet. "Yeah, you might wanna take a shower too," he winked, picking up the long abandoned coffee mugs and exiting the bedroom.

Ianto stared after him for a long moment before pushing back the covers and heading to the bathroom, wondering vaguely who had stripped him to boxers and a T-shirt.


	5. Seven Days To A Wedding

**Thanks again to everyone who has read and reviewed!**

**Special thanks and October hype to my awesome beta Amethystbutterflys x**

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**Seven Days To A Wedding**

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When he returned to the bedroom twenty minutes later, refreshed and ready to face the day, Ianto was greeted by the mouth-watering aroma of toasted bagels and fresh coffee. Feeling much better- hungry, even- he curiously followed the scent to the kitchen and halted in the doorway, blinking.

Jack was perched on the counter, swinging his legs to thump softly against the cupboards as he munched on a toasted bagel with cream cheese, a steaming cup of black coffee at his side.

Catching sight of the Welshman in the doorway, the American beamed.

"There _was_ a shop!" he stated, picking something up from his other side and tossing it at Ianto. "Here."

Reflexively, the Welshman caught it and looked down to see a box of aspirin.

"Thanks," he responded absently. Something seemed wrong about this whole scene, and he was struggling to work out what it was.

"Hungry?" Jack asked, holding the bag of bagels out to Ianto. The Welshman took it automatically.

"Thanks," he repeated, slicing one in half and dropping it into the toaster.

Wait a minute- toaster?

Blinking, he turned back to Jack. "Where did the toaster come from?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I found it under a gooseberry bush, Ianto. I think a stork left it there."

That was the moment at which all of Ianto's previous doubts about the American melted away. He might have been new and different, exotic and flamboyant, but he would fit into their group just fine.

"Wanker," he said, and hit Jack lightly.

With faster, less alcohol-addled reflexes the American caught Ianto's hand before it connected and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the palm.

"But you love me really," he responded, fluttering his eyelashes.

"That depends if you have any more cream cheese."

* * *

"I think you lied when you said you don't have a boyfriend," Ianto teased, one eyebrow raised as he watched Jack lovingly stroke the dashboard of his SUV.

Jack grinned. "No I didn't- Barbara's my _girl_friend."

Ianto choked. "_Barbara_?" he spluttered.

Jack shrugged. "It sounded better than Janet."

Ianto raised his other eyebrow. "Please don't tell me you kiss her goodnight."

Jack responded with one of those stares. They were unnerving at the best of times, and even more so at the present moment, given that the American was driving.

"What do you think I am, a Shania Twain song?"

Ianto smirked to hide his sigh of relief as Jack returned his attention to the road just in time to miss hitting a passing motorcyclist who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"Well if the shoe fits…"

"It doesn't," Jack retorted with a grin. "Shania is several sizes smaller than me. And you know what they say about-"

Ianto groaned. "Oh god, _please_ do not finish that sentence with the words 'men with big feet'- my brain is far too sensitive for that mental image."

Jack smirked. "Measuring tapes never lie," he said.

Ianto glanced askance at the glove compartment.

* * *

"Weren't we supposed to measure the flat first, to check that everything would fit?"

Jack smirked. "Now where would the fun be in that? And for the record, it's no fun slaving away trying to match your woods either- that's just boring."

Ianto believed him, having briefly seen Jack's oddly charming eclectically mismatched home when they had nipped in for the tape measure.

He let his eyes drift back to the oak side table he had fallen in love with and wrote down its warehouse reference code with a sigh.

"You're a bad influence on me," he said, looking up at the spot where the American had been a minute previously and finding his gaze settling on… a cabinet. He blinked, and jumped as he felt warm breath on his ear.

"Maybe that's what you need…" Jack's words whispered across his skin and he could not suppress a shiver as the American plucked the list from between his fingers.

"Right, what else do you need to get?"

* * *

They paused for lunch when they encountered the restaurant halfway round the shop.

"Coffee _and_ water?" Ianto questioned, raising an eyebrow at Jack's tray. "I had no idea I was making you so thirsty."

Jack grinned. "It was the bedroom section that did for me," he confessed with a lascivious smirk. "The way you were bending down to investigate those wardrobe drawers..."

"Down, boy," Ianto responded absently, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.

Jack plucked the offending article from between his fingers and held it closed.

"On me," he said, pushing an elegant midnight-blue debit card at the cashier.

Ianto made a grab for his wallet. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly-" he began.

Jack stopped him with a hand over the mouth. "Of course you can," he said. "You're gonna get stung with a big enough bill at the end of the shop anyway," he pointed out, removing his hand to take his debit card back.

"But you've done so much for me already!" Ianto insisted as he followed the American to a table.

"Hmm, I bought you some aspirin, made you a couple of coffees and nearly killed you with my crappy British driving. Yeah, so much," Jack said, determinedly refusing the tenner Ianto was attempting to force on him.

"Don't forget agreeing to save my arse," Ianto pointed out, continuing his efforts.

Jack took the tenner, folded it neatly and slipped it into Ianto's jacket pocket. "**You** have no money," the American pointed out. "You're having to spend your 401K on furniture and you're stuck with a flat you can't afford on one salary and can't find anyone to share with you on account of it only having one bedroom."

Ianto's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I can't afford the flat?"

Jack shrugged unrepentantly. "Gwen has a big mouth. And she's more worried about you than she's letting on."

"Well I don't see how you can help," Ianto grumbled. "You blew your 401K on a car."

Jack laughed. "I hate to disappoint you, gorgeous, but you have to know- I could have afforded at least six Range Rovers with my 401K. A mere _one_ scarcely made a dent in my bank account. Oh, and I have a spare room, in case the flat situation gets desperate. But that's enough talk of problems," he added hastily, watching the steel shutters threatening to slam down in Ianto's eyes. He took a gulp of coffee and pulled a face.

"Christ, I'm a masochist," he commented with another grimace. "I know the coffee will be crap, but I buy it anyway purely for the caffeine."

Ianto laughed. "You caffeine whore, you!" he teased, grabbing Jack's water and taking a swig. "Though I've gotta agree- the coffee is undeniably crap."

Jack grinned. "Don't tell me- you're a masochist too."

Ianto grinned back, the closest to happy he had been for weeks. "'Fraid so."

"I think this calls for a toast," Jack chuckled, raising his mug. "To masochism."

Ianto laughed, echoing the action. "To masochism."

* * *

"I think," Ianto ground out as he hefted his end of the devilishly heavy flatpack box more securely into his arms, "this also counts as masochism."

Jack grunted, concentrating on walking backwards. "For me, maybe. For you it's sadistic practicality."

"Why don't we just lump it all under the great big neon label 'Ouch!'?" Ianto suggested as he gratefully slid the wardrobe into the back of Jack's car.

The American grinned as he straightened up with relief. "Because that's just boring. Anyway, I hate labels."

"Is there anything you don't hate?" Ianto asked teasingly as Jack slammed the boot on the last of the boxes.

"Lots of things, actually," the American retorted. "Cocktails. Bacardi. Fast cars, hot sex, rowdy parties. Cute Welshmen in terrible plights."

"I'm not a cute Welshman in a terrible plight," Ianto said disapprovingly. "I'm a straight Welshman getting over the love of his life. Do you flirt so openly with everyone?"

Jack shrugged. "Pretty much. Why, does it bother you? I'll stop if it does. I'm not a _complete_ bastard, honestly." He grinned engagingly, and Ianto couldn't help but smile back.

"I never thought you were. But if you're doing the whole drag thing because you fancy me, tell me now and I'll find someone else or face Rhiannon's wrath; because nothing is ever going to happen between us and I really don't want to lead you on."

Jack sighed, staring at the Welshman over the top of the Range Rover. "Ianto, I told you the day we met- I'm getting over a particularly crappy break-up myself; and I'm not interested in getting involved with anyone right now. I'm doing the whole 'drag thing' because you're a nice guy and I don't especially want your sister to kill you. I have no designs on your body, honestly. But if you do want to back out of the deal, that's entirely up to you."

Opening the door, he slid gracefully into the driver's seat. Ianto continued to stare dazedly over the car for a long moment. Although Jack's words were convincing, something about them didn't quite ring true, though he couldn't for the life of him work out what. Sighing in frustration, he joined Jack in the car. He could puzzle over it later- right now he had furniture to build.

* * *

"Attach component A to bracket B," Ianto read aloud, staring at the mess of wardrobe parts in front of him. The rich scent of coffee invaded his senses, and a second later the slim paper leaflet vanished from between his fingers.

"Instructions," Jack announced, depositing a mug- a blissfully whole mug, complete with handle- next to the Welshman, "are for wimps." Stepping over to the window, he casually released the paper and watched it flutter down on the breeze to land neatly on top of a russet-coloured Renault that was just pulling up down below.

Ianto gritted his teeth. "Well when this wardrobe collapses, I'll be blaming you."

Jack laughed. "_If _that wardrobe collapses," he countered, "it'd prove you're crap at DIY."

Ianto looked affronted. "I'll have you know I'm brilliant at DIY. When I have instructions."

"Ah, but that's not DIY; that's 'do it the way some boring tosser told you to'," Jack argued.

"Usually," Ianto said haughtily, looking down his nose at the American (some feat, considering Jack was towering above him), "the 'boring old tosser' knows what they're talking about."

Picking up a different set of instructions, these ones for the bedside cabinet, Jack ran his eyes over them. "You really think? I'm impressed, Mr Jones. I didn't know accountants were expected to know Japanese." The cabinet instructions followed the wardrobe ones out of the window.

Ianto rolled his eyes in frustration, then grinned. "Regarding the Japanese, Tosh taught me. Though I fail to see how it relates to these instructions- those are written in technobabble."

"Sometimes a little technobabble is good for the soul," Jack smirked. "Unfortunately, you seem to have got hold of the wrong end of the stick. _These_-" (plummet, went the instructions for the tallboy) "are not technobabble. They're utter crap."

Ianto glared. "If you've _quite _finished defacing my front garden, perhaps you can get your arse down here and lend a hand?"

Jack opened his mouth, doubtless to make some clever retort, but whatever he was planning to say was drowned out by the doorbell and he grinned. "Change of plan- I'll get that; you carry on screwing up the furniture."

Ianto used the two minutes of his absence to thoroughly and feelingly strangle a section of wardrobe.

"If you give it some TLC it'll hang together better." Jack collapsed on the bed with a plate of biscuits.

Ianto glared at him, then grinned at the slender brunette lounging against the door-frame.

"Damn, you're not Tosh."

"Charming!" Gwen pulled a face at him. "That's the last time I'll be popping round to see how your hangover is. First this git throws wardrobe instructions at my car, and now you tell me I'm not enough of a technogeek for you."

Ianto grinned, rising to his feet to hug her. "I'm sorry. I can't apologise for the gittiness of the smug wanker on the bed, but I am grateful for your presence. Now pull up a patch of carpet and help!"

The Welshwoman laughed. "Oh, I see, you _want_ wonky furniture? Well, there's no accounting for taste. No," she said with a twinkle in her eye, opening her handbag, "this is all the help you'll be getting from me."

With a flourish, she dropped three slender instruction leaflets onto Ianto's lap.

He grinned up at her in relief. "You are a lifesaver."

Jack pouted. "Spoilsport."

"But you love me really," Gwen retorted with a grin, draining Jack's coffee and grabbing a biscuit. "Right, well. I only popped round to see how Yan's doing, so I'll leave you boys to it."

As the front door swung shut behind her, Ianto treated Jack to a Stare.

"Like to give me a hand here?"

"Now where would the fun be in that?" the American pouted, but he slid off the bed to help anyway.

This time Ianto kept a tight hold on the instructions, just in case.

* * *

"Let me take you to dinner," Jack said. It was half-past seven, and four hours of solid hard work, much laughter and flirting (on Jack's part, anyway) and several more battles over the instructions had resulted in Ianto's humble abode looking far less empty than before. The furniture even, by some miracle, had turned out much sturdier and more sober-looking than either of them had expected.

"As long as I can pay for my half," Ianto said.

"Ok," Jack agreed, "on one condition."

"Which is?" the Welshman asked suspiciously.

Jack grinned, slipping a folded ten pound note out of the pocket of his jacket, which lay abandoned across one of Ianto's new kitchen chairs. "You're to take this back," he said firmly, forcing it into Ianto's hand. "I already told you, lunch is on me."

Damn, and he thought he'd been so sly, leaving the money in Jack's pocket when he wasn't looking. Four hours of flatpacking had worn down the Welshman's resolve, and he sighed. "Alright. I'll let you pay for lunch if you let me pay for dinner."

Jack frowned. "That wasn't the deal and you know it. We'll split the cost of dinner; can't say fairer than that."

"But then I'd still feel guilty about lunch," Ianto argued.

The American sighed. "For heaven's sake! Does it make you feel less of a man or something, when someone buys you lunch?"

"Does it you?" Ianto countered challengingly, and Jack shook his head.

"No."

"So why are you making such a fuss about it?"

"It's logical," the American pointed out. "I earn more than you and I have more savings than you. You need all the cash you can save right now."

"I'm fine," Ianto insisted. "But I already feel crap enough about Lisa so please, let me pay my way. It's a self-preservation thing, don't you see? I can't afford to be beholden to anyone right now."

"Ok," Jack agreed, dropping the issue but holding Ianto's eye. "I'll stop trying uncharacteristically to be a gentleman. But know that if you need anything- anything at all, from a loan to a hug or a shoulder to cry on or somewhere to stay, I'm here, alright?"

Ianto smiled weakly, angrily blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. "Alright. And- thank you."

Jack smiled back, pulling him into a hug. "No problem."

Stepping back, he tenderly wiped away the lone tear trickling down the Welshman's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Oh god, now you're upset and it's my fault. Shit, I'm sorry. Do you want me to go? Or shall we say sod going out and order in a takeaway?"

Ianto grinned. "Oh, takeaway, naturally," he said. "What's the point in buying unchipped crockery and spending forty minutes building a table if you're not going to use them?"


	6. Four Days To A Wedding

**Thanks again for all the support and reviews; I really appreciate it! So glad you're enjoying it so far!**

**Special thanks to my uber-awesome beta Amethystbutterflys x**

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**Four Days To A Wedding**

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"Are you seriously going through with this crazy drag scheme?"

"Good evening, Owen. How nice of you to pop round! Do come in. How are you tonight?" Ianto asked the empty hallway pleasantly before shutting the door and following the acerbic Londoner and his crate of beer into the kitchen.

"Coffee," Owen said pointedly.

"Kettle," Ianto responded, gesturing to the artefact in question equally pointedly with a can of beer.

"Wanker," Owen scowled.

Ianto laughed, starting the coffee machine. "You always did have a way with words."

"And you always did have a distinct lack of braincells," Owen retorted. "You don't seriously think this drag thing will work, do you? 'Cause if you do, we need to return you to planet Earth sharpish. A dress and wig and his pathetic little crush on you ain't gonna convince anyone that he's a woman."

"He does not have a crush on me!" Ianto protested. "Just because he's gay doesn't mean he fancies every man he claps eyes on!"

"Not every man, no," Owen agreed. "He certainly doesn't fancy me. At least, I bloody hope he doesn't! But he does fancy you."

"He doesn't." Ianto banged a mug of strong black coffee down in front of the doctor. "He told me that he doesn't. He's getting over a painful break-up himself."

"Well of course he's going to deny it!" Owen said impatiently. "But denying it doesn't stop it being true."

"Just because you think you're God's gift to women doesn't mean you know the first thing about men," Ianto said coldly.

Owen sighed loudly. "Oh, wake up and smell the testosterone! Jack. Fancies. You! And that's not going to be enough to save your sorry arse at this wedding."

Sensing that he was on a hiding to nothing denying that Jack had feelings for him (Owen could be bloody stubborn when he wanted to be, even when he was wrong), Ianto tried a different tack.

"Who's to say whether he'll convince or not before we've seen him in drag?" he asked reasonably.

Owen rolled his eyes. "_Please_ tell me you're seeing him in drag before the rehearsal dinner," he begged.

Ianto smiled, knowing it was the doctor's way of saying he cared.

"Tomorrow," he said. "He's wearing drag, I'm picking him up at seven, and we're going out for dinner. If he can fool an entire restaurant of people, I reckon we'll be good for the wedding."

Owen ignored the second sentence. "You're going out to dinner? Just the two of you?"

"It's not a date," Ianto said quickly.

Owen raised an eyebrow. "Does he know that?"

"Yes!" Ianto snapped. "Will you just drop it? He does not fancy me! He is just doing me a favour! And if you mention this again you will be out of that door whether you've finished that coffee or not."

"Okay, okay, sorry!" Owen held his hands up defensively. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Ianto stared at him. "Owen, my girlfriend responded to my marriage proposal by telling me that she was cheating on me and that I'm crap in bed and pretty much a crap boyfriend too. It's a bit late to try and save me from hurt now. My stomach feels like it's full of rats; there isn't an inch of me that doesn't hurt. It feels like all I am now is pain. If it's possible for me to get hurt any more then life is even shittier than I thought."

Inwardly, Owen screamed: 'thank the Lord!' He had been waiting for Ianto's carefully schooled aura of calm and nonchalance to crack since the moment he had found out about the Welshman's break-up.

Pretending not to notice the hot tears filling the Welshman's eyes, Owen slid another can of beer across the table towards him. "Life _is _shit, Yan," he said. "But there is always room for a little more pain in the form of a stinking hangover."

Sympathy was Gwen's job; providing alcoholic comfort was Owen's. Sympathy grated on Ianto's nerves- nothing in the world would induce the Welshman to cry on Gwen's shoulder, in spite of their closeness.

Ianto smiled weakly, grateful that Owen was turning a blind eye to his distress. Somehow he had always know that if and when he broke down about Lisa, it would be Owen he ended up screaming at. He simply couldn't face Gwen's sugar-sweet sympathy or Tosh's uncertainty- the Japanese woman was far better with technology than emotions.

"If I go to work tomorrow with a stinking hangover, I'll get sacked, and that's the last thing I need right now," he retorted, passing the beer back and pouring himself a coffee. "So what do you think of the furniture?"

Owen glanced appraisingly round the kitchen. "I think that you need to tighten the bolts on the table before it collapses," he said.

Ianto looked affronted. "Oi! I made that table myself!"

"Yeah? You and whose instructions?"

"Jack's. He threw the real ones out of the window."

"That explains a lot."


	7. Three Days To A Wedding

**Massive thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed!**

**Special thanks and hugs to my awesome beta Amethystbutterflys x**

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**Three Days To A Wedding**

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In spite of Owen's doubts, the kitchen table gamely held up through the next 24 hours. Ianto's nerves were another matter. By the time 7pm rolled around, the Welshman was having kittens. What if Owen was right, and Jack's drag was awful? Or worse, what if the American didn't realise it wasn't a date, and came onto him? Ianto's hand was shaking as he rang Jack's doorbell.

Life slowed to half-speed as the door swung open, and for a moment Ianto forgot how to breathe. In front of him stood a tall, stunning figure in a beautiful red dress which accentuated an impressive pair of breasts and skimmed down over the hips, giving the merest suggestion of sexy curves as the material fell loosely away to the knee. Straight blonde hair fell five or six inches below the stranger's shoulders and a pair of brilliant blue eyes sparkled. Ianto's blood rushed south.

Apparently oblivious, the stranger gave a sexy smile. "Well hey there, gorgeous! Looking for someone?"

The voice was low and husky, and it was all Ianto could do to stutter a reply. "Er, yes, actually. Is Jack Harkness in?" 'And who the fuck are you?' his mind added. The previous weekend Jack had given him the impression that he lived alone, and this was definitely the right house.

The stranger smiled again. "Sorry gorgeous, Jack's not around at the moment. Why don't you come in?"

Ianto's body screamed 'yes!' His mind was more reticent.

"Are you sure?" he frowned. "Only we were supposed to be going out tonight..."

"Oh yeah, he mentioned something about dinner. Come on in and we'll see if we can figure out what happened to him."

The stranger turned and sashayed down the hall. Ianto followed, trying to get a certain part of his anatomy back under control.

"Now, about Jack..." the stranger purred as Ianto entered the living room. The next sentence was delivered with amusement rather than the former sexy huskiness. "How many times do you need me to call you gorgeous before you figure it out? Or do you require a striptease?"

Jack's familiar teasing tones cured Ianto's little problem instantly and effectively, and he sank down onto the sofa in shock.

"Holy fuck," he muttered uncharacteristically, staring at Jack. "You're blonde!" he added, for want of a better reaction.

The American laughed heartily. "They have more fun," he shrugged. "But if you prefer brunettes or redheads, I can always change."

Ianto blinked. "I'm guessing this isn't your first time."

"Ooh, I like an intelligent man," Jack smirked, picking up an elegant black leather handbag. "Well? Shall we?"

"I wish Owen could see you now," Ianto murmured as he took the proffered hand and let Jack help him to his feet. "He didn't think you could pull it off."

The American chuckled. "He's just jealous because I have better legs."

* * *

"So what am I supposed to call you when you're dressed as a woman?" Ianto asked suddenly as he pulled into a parking space by the bay- they were planning to dine in one of the many restaurants on Mermaid Quay.

Jack grinned, extending a hand. Ianto noticed that the neatly manicured fingernails were painted red to match the American's dress. "Jacqueline Franklin," he reintroduced himself, his voice low and husky again. "Call me Jac for short, if you like, but don't even _think_ about calling me Jackie. I might be wearing a dress, but I can still punch like a man."

Ianto accepted the hand and shook it. "Ifan Jones," he responded, divulging one of his best-kept secrets in return for Jack's honesty about his propensity for women's clothing. "But don't even _think_ about calling me Ifan or I'll put your stiletto through your throat."

Actually, Ianto was quite impressed by the stilettos. And he had been right on Sunday morning: Jack's long slender feet did look very good in high heels. However, he kept this thought to himself and opened his door instead. "Shall we?"

* * *

"So tell me about Rhiannon," Jack said as they waited for their food to arrive.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "What do you want to know?"

The American shrugged. "I refuse to believe she's the man-eating monster with foot-long razor sharp claws you've been making her out to be."

"If she wasn't, would I be taking 'Jacqueline Franklin' to her wedding?" Ianto countered.

"Yes," Jack said, grinning cheekily. "I mean, you've known me, what, two and a half weeks now? Plenty enough time for you to decide you'd rather face the wedding with a friend than alone, and apparently I'm the only one available on that day."

"Ok…" Ianto smirked back. "So now account for the fact that you'll be wearing a dress."

"Easy," Jack said confidently. "It suits my figure and looks fantastic in photos. Great foil for homophobia, too."

"Because a man in a dress never looks gay; or ends up on the receiving end of prejudice," Ianto said dryly.

Jack pouted. "Do I look like a man in a dress?"

Ianto had to admit that the hours Jack must have spent in preparation for the outing were worth it- without former knowledge of the American's gender, it was difficult to tell. Damn it all, though, he did make a _most_ attractive blonde. The Welshman could feel dozens of jealous and curious gazes settling on him, and it was beginning to make him feel a little uncomfortable.

"You know what you said earlier about being a brunette or redhead?"

Jack nodded. "I can be anyone you like, gorgeous."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Well, for the wedding, could you try to be someone less out of my league?"

Jack looked genuinely confused. "What do you mean, out of your league?"

Ianto snorted. "Well, look at me, Jack! As if there's any way I could pull a stunning, busty blonde like you."

"You could pull a stunning, busty blonde just as easily as you could pull a tall dark handsome bloke," Jack said sincerely.

"This isn't a date," Ianto said quickly, sensing the American's meaning.

"I know!" Jack hastened to clarify. "I'm just saying- as a man or as a woman, _if_ I were looking for a relationship you could pull me any day."

"Except on the days you're getting over tragic and traumatic break-ups that you refuse to talk about," Ianto added with a raised eyebrow.

"Who wants to talk about break-ups?" Jack asked. "The past is the past; no point stirring it up for no reason. And it's not like I'm asking you to talk about the woman who threw an overpriced diamond solitaire back in your face and then stole all your furniture."

"And yet you're rubbing my nose in it now," Ianto snapped, then frowned. "Anyway, how did you know it was a diamond solitaire?"

This time it was Jack's turn to snort. "Oh, come on, Ianto; as if you'd propose with anything else."

"It's classic!" Ianto protested.

"It's cliché," Jack countered.

"Cliché is romantic."

"Oh, I'm not denying that!" Jack's response was speedy. "It's just not for me."

"That is because in spite of the dress, you are not a woman," Ianto responded, a touch cuttingly.

"Hey! I can be a bloke and evaluate precious stones! I'm sure you have some opinions on them as well, romance notwithstanding."

Ianto sighed. "So go on then, share your insights into precious stones."

"Sapphires," Jack said decisively. "Sapphires all the way. They have so much more colour and character than diamonds."

"So if a bloke got down on one knee with a sapphire, you'd be more likely to say yes than if he did it with a diamond?" Ianto asked curiously.

Jack nodded vehemently. "Hell yes! I mean, it would mostly depend on how I felt about the guy, of course. But it's like the difference between someone begging you to do something and them giving you a cup of tea, and them begging for the same task and giving you coffee. Essentially they both mean the same thing, but getting it right indicates more interest in you, more caring. And of course because one means slightly more to you than the other, that one will inevitably be better at swaying you."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Ianto nodded. "And for the record, coffee. Always coffee."

* * *

"How are you finding Wales?" Ianto asked suddenly, midway through his lasagne. For some inexplicable reason it felt like he'd known Jack forever, and it had come as quite a shock to the Welshman to suddenly remember that the American had only arrived in the country less than a month before.

Jack grinned. "Love it," he said. "The people are fabulous, the accents are _hot_, and the weather is hilarious."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. Not many people called grey Welsh drizzle 'hilarious'. 'Oh fuck, I'm soaking!' was a far more common reaction to the weather.

Catching the look, Jack chuckled. "I grew up in California," he said. "The weather is far less interesting there."

"Hmm," said Ianto. "Sunshine. How terribly boring."

"Precisely," Jack nodded.

"Why did you move here?" Ianto wondered, not for the first time. "Apart from for the accents, of course."

The American shrugged. "Work," he explained concisely. "They bribed me with a promotion and, well, there wasn't anything left for me in the States any more. It felt like as good an opportunity as any to start afresh and see if I can't get things right this time."

Ianto frowned. "Hang on, if you crossed the pond to get away from an ex and there's nothing left for you in America any more, why are you shying away from dating because of your ex?"

"Did I say it was because of my ex?" Jack asked. "No, I'm not getting involved at the moment because I'd be doing it for all the wrong reasons. Though I suppose... John was severely dysfunctional, and I dunno, I guess maybe a little part of me is running scared of that."

"That makes sense," Ianto said, his mind drifting onto Lisa. "I mean, how do you bounce back from that sort of thing? How on earth do you begin to _trust_ people again?"

He must have sounded more vulnerable than he thought, because Jack laid down his cutlery and reached over to squeeze Ianto's hand.

"It won't always be like this," the American said softly. "Someday you'll meet someone else; someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved, and then everything will just fall into place."

"Will it?" Ianto asked sceptically, staring at their joined hands. "I just don't know any more. I used to believe in fairytale concepts like 'happy ever after' and 'the One', you know? But now? That's just a load of crap, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily," Jack argued, staring into Ianto's eyes. "I thought that too, when I broke up with John. But trust me, Ianto- one day you _will_ meet someone who restores your faith in happy endings."

As he stared back into the impossibly blue depths of Jack's eyes, it occurred to Ianto that maybe- platonically- he already had.

* * *

"Dessert?" Ianto asked as the waitress cleared their plates.

Jack considered. "I'm a bit full actually," he said. "Share one?"

Ianto's mind flew back to a hilarious meal with the others in the not so distant past. On the occasion in question, Gwen had decided she was too full for dessert, then promptly changed her mind when the desserts arrived and started eyeing up Ianto's tiramisu. Ianto had edged the plate away cautiously whilst Gwen made a grab for Owen's spoon, and a brief cutlery battle had ensued. Well Ianto remembered Owen's sarcastic complaints about not being able to take them anywhere, and the pure unadulterated joy on Tosh's face when she had laughingly reminded Gwen in the aftermath of Ianto's victory: 'Ianto Jones does not share tiramisu!'

"Ianto?" Jack prompted, and the Welshman was jolted from his memory with a start.

"Sure," he responded with a smile. "Tiramisu?"

* * *

"I'm paying," Jack said, reaching for the bill.

"Like fuck you are," Ianto retorted, sounding uncannily like Owen.

"'Course I am," the American argued. "I'm getting two free meals out of you at the end of the week; the least I can do is pay for tonight."

"But I'm not paying for those meals," Ianto argued. "Anyway, I'm going to look a right bastard if I let the lady pay." He played his ace, confidently.

Jack responded promptly with his own trump card. "If you pay for everything I'll feel like an escort."

He held out his hand for the bill and, embarrassed into submission, Ianto acquiesced gracelessly.

"Honestly, do you give all your dates this much trouble?" he groused as he handed over the sleek leather folder containing the bill.

It got halfway into Jack's hand before both men realised what Ianto had said and froze simultaneously.

Jack recovered first. "This isn't a date," he said cautiously, sliding the folder from between limp fingers.

"Oh bugger," Ianto muttered as he watched Jack place his debit card on top of the bill. "Now I feel like an escort."

Jack sighed, his hand hovering over the bill. "Split it?" he suggested resignedly.

Ianto grinned. "Suits me."

Realising how he had been backed into a corner, Jack struggled to glare through his amusement and admiration. "You manipulative bastard," he said.

Ianto smiled sweetly. "I try my best."


	8. Two Days To A Wedding

**Thanks for all the support and reviews! I really do appreciate the support! So glad you're enjoying it so far. =)**

**Special thanks and big hugs to my amazing beta, Amethystbutterflys xx**

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**Two Days To A Wedding**

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"Bollocks!" Ianto exclaimed. The phone had rung just as he was lifting a mug down from the cupboard, startling him into dropping it.

"Well that lasted a while," he muttered sarcastically, staring at the shards on the counter. In the background the phone rang incessantly on, and the Welshman turned his back on the mess with gritted teeth and lifted the receiver.

"Hello?"

"_Ianto!_"

Ianto gulped- even with one word, his sister had effortlessly conveyed the fact that she was on a mission. "Hi Rhi," he responded cautiously.

"_Listen, you don't need to fuss about finding a date now_," Rhiannon said.

"What?" Ianto blinked. Rhiannon _never_ changed her mind when it was set on something.

"_Yeah, I asked Lisa to come along for the photos_." Rhiannon sounded uncommonly pleased with herself. Ianto blanched.

"WHAT?" He was suddenly glad that he'd dropped the mug- that little incident had just saved his beloved kitchen cabinets from a huge coffee stain. In the absence of any mug to drop, he dropped the phone instead.

"_Ianto? Ianto? Yan?_" Rhiannon's voice drifted up from the receiver, sounding annoyingly tinny. "_Ifan, I don't have time for this right now! Pick up the bloody phone!_"

Ianto made a dive for the receiver. "Don't call me Ifan!" he snapped.

"_I'm planning a bloody wedding, Ianto, I'll call you whatever I like!_" Ianto could hear her eye-roll down the phone, and sighed.

"Yeah, whatever. Why the hell did you invite Lisa, Rhi? I have a date!"

"_Really? A _date_?_" Rhiannon sounded suspicious. "_Just, I heard you'd gone bender. Which is fine, don't get me wrong; but I want a woman in the photos or the symmetry will be off._"

"I have not 'gone bender'!" Ianto snapped. "Where the hell did you hear that?"

"_Alright, alright, don't bite my head off! But Susan from up the road saw you in this pub the other week; and she said you were hitting on some guy. Said you feel into his arms and asked him to the wedding._"

"I was drunk!" Ianto protested. "I didn't know what I was doing!"

"_Oh, I think you did,_" Rhiannon said teasingly. "_Susan said he was gorgeous, like a film star or an escort or something_."

"Well you did tell me to bring an escort!" Ianto sniped.

"_I meant a female one!_" his sister shot back.

"Anyway, I haven't gone bender," Ianto said firmly. "But you told me to bring someone to your wedding, so I went out and found someone. And _yes_, they do wear dresses, so the photos will be fine."

"_You'll have to put her off, Yan,_" Rhiannon warned."_Lisa said she'd come. Vacancy filled._"

For the first time in his life, Ianto stood up to his sister. "No," he said. "_You'll_ have to put _Lisa_ off, Rhi. You told me to find a date and I did. She lost her ticket when she _dumped_ me."

Rhiannon sighed. "_So go on then,_" she said. "_Who's your date?_"

Ianto blinked. Apparently his quiet determination had broken through the Bridezilla act; and for the first time in the last month Ianto could hear his sister, as opposed to the wedding monster. He smiled. "Her name is Jacqueline- Jacqueline Franklin. She works with Gwen, and she's only just moved here from America, which is why I haven't told you about it yet."

"_Do you like her, Yan_?" Rhiannon asked quietly.

Ianto knew her well enough to know that Jack's presence at the wedding hinged on his next reply, and knowing how much the American was looking forward to it he was determined that Jack would not be banished. "Yes," he said simply.

There was a long pause, then Rhiannon sighed again. "_I suppose they can both come_."

"Both?" Ianto could not hide his dismay.

"_Well I can't turn Lisa away now!_" Rhiannon argued. "_Not after I begged her for the favour! It'll be embarrassing enough having to tell her that I won't need her for the photos_."

Ianto took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that if Jack was there seeing Lisa wouldn't be so bad. Remembering his reaction to the American's sleek blonde locks, Ianto smiled. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if Jack looked out of his league after all.

"You'll let Jac be in the photos?" he clarified, wondering if he'd misheard.

"_Of course!_" Rhiannon sounded surprised that he was asking. "_I'm not a complete cow, Yan. Though I am selfish enough to want brilliant wedding photos, and the photos will be so much better if you're happy._"

Ianto sighed. "Rhi, I proposed to Lisa and she told me that she was cheating on me. I proposed to her and she _dumped_ me. Of course I'm not bloody happy! But I will smile in your photos, I promise."

"_Is she pretty?_" Rhiannon asked, and Ianto could almost see the cheeky gleam in his sister's eye.

"You mean Jac?" he clarified. "She's gorgeous. Bloody gorgeous."

"_Scale of one to ten?_"

"Judge for yourself tomorrow," Ianto retorted.

"_Spoilsport!_" Rhiannon's pout was audible. "_I want to know _your_ opinion. So go on- scale of one to ten?_"

"Eleven," Ianto said.

Rhiannon whistled. "_Bloody hell, Yan, what's she doing with you?_"

"Doing a friend a favour," the Welshman said drily. "We're not a couple, Rhi. She's just… Moral support, you know?"

"_Yeah,_" Rhiannon said. "_Well, I've really gotta go, Yan- lots to do before tomorrow. I'll look forward to meeting… Jacqueline._"

"Ok," Ianto said. "Oh, Rhi? Lisa's not coming to the rehearsal dinner, is she?" he asked anxiously, and his sister chuckled.

"_No, just to the wedding and reception_._ Take care of yourself, Ifan-bach_."

"Don't call me Ifan!" Ianto snapped.

Rhiannon laughed. "_Bye, Yan._"

She hung up before the Welshman had time to repeat the sentiment, and he sighed as he replaced the receiver in its cradle and returned to the mess in the kitchen. If he'd been dreading the wedding before, that was nothing to what he felt now. Deciding uncharacteristically that the mess could wait, he wandered through to the lounge in search of his mobile. Sinking down on the squashy red sofa that Jack had persuaded him to buy, Ianto picked up the device in question and rattled off a quick text to the American:

'_Changed my mind- I do want you blonde. I NEED you to be stunning._'

Jack's reply was swift, and Ianto could not stop the fond smile which broke out over his face as he read it:

'_Anything for you, gorgeous. See you tomorrow xx_'


	9. 24 Hours To A Wedding, Give Or Take

**Huge thanks and much love to everyone who has read and reviewed- the response to the last chapter was incredible! This one is for everyone who has reviewed so far; hope you enjoy!**

**Super-special thanks to my fabulous beta Amethystbutterflys xxx**

**Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this chapter are those of the characters and do not neccessarily reflect either my opinion or the actual truth. Just remember, it's Owen. He's an irreverant kind of guy.  
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**24 Hours To A Wedding (Give Or Take)**

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Ianto's legendary focus was tried to the limits the following day as he fought to concentrate on his work whilst a battalion of butterflies in army-issue boots with steel toecaps danced the light fandango (badly) in his stomach. The situation was only partially helped by the encouraging texts he received from Tosh, Owen and Gwen:

'_Good luck tonight sweetie! I'll be thinking of you xxx'_

_'Hope everything goes ok tonight! I wish I could have helped you out.'_

_'Fuck the lot of 'em, Jones! If they notice he's a bloke, just top up their glasses and they'll swear he's the Pope by tomorrow.'_

Owen's text in particular had eased the butterflies, and the Welshman had laughed as he had texted back:

'_The Pope, Owen? Really? In a ballgown? With DD-breasts?'_

The reply had made him laugh still more:

'_Just another Friday night in the Vatican.'

* * *

_

Thanks to the support of his coterie, Ianto was feeling a fair bit better by lunchtime. In the event, this was a good thing, because he received quite a shock at reception on his way out to grab a sandwich.

"Have you got a moment, Ianto?" Carys Fletcher, their receptionist, called out. "Only these just came for you and I wondered if you wanted them putting in water?"

Reaching below the desk, she produced an elegant bunch of white carnations, their feathered petals fringed with deep purple. Ianto gasped, caught by surprise. Gwen- it had to be. She was the only one who knew those were his favourites.

"Um, yeah, please, thanks," the Welshman stuttered, staring at the flowers.

Carys laughed. "I'll just find a vase for you," she said. "Aren't you going to open the card?"

Ianto blinked. "Card?"

The receptionist laughed again, pointing out where it was nestling in the cellophane wrapper.

Nodding his thanks, Ianto slid the little envelope out carefully, watched closely by Carys- clearly she had no intention of finding a vase until she knew who the flowers were from.

Inside the envelope was a small card with an elegant silver floral design on the front, but Ianto barely paused to admire it before flipping the card open. The writing which stared back at him was not Gwen's familiar quick scrawl, but careful and elegant copperplate handwriting.

"Written by the shop," Ianto muttered as he took it in.

Carys clicked her tongue impatiently. "Yes, but what does it _say_?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow at her then turned his attention back to the card:

'_Just relax- tonight will go fine. No-one will guess, you WON'T see you ex, and you WILL have fun. So keep smiling, gorgeous, that frown doesn't suit you. PS. This isn't romantic; it's reassuring xxx'_

"Well?" Carys demanded, grinning at the expression on Ianto's face. "From someone special?"

Ianto smiled, the butterflies settling in his stomach. "Yeah," he said. "They are."

* * *

By the time six pm rolled around the butterflies were back in force. Rhiannon had demanded that he be early for the rehearsal dinner, and Jack was due to pick him up any second.

As he paced the flat impatiently, Ianto glanced at the carnations and smiled. Bless Jack; it was so thoughtful of him…

The thought had scarcely passed through his mind when the doorbell rang, and he rushed to answer it.

Once again, he was knocked for six by the stunning blonde who appeared as the door swung open. This time Jack had decided on black with silver accessories and smoky eye make-up. Tonight's dress was tighter than Wednesday's, hugging a sexily curvy figure. Slender straps criss-crossed across the back to hold up the slightly plunging neckline, which was just low enough to hint at the cleavage below without revealing that the cleavage in question was in fact silicone. The hemline was even, and the material fell from the hips in soft folds which skimmed the tops of Jack's calves without revealing his masculine knees. The outfit was completed with elegant silver jewellery, a silver clutch bag, and… battered navy denim converse.

Ianto choked and raised an eyebrow. "Converse, Jack? For a black tie dinner?"

The vision in front of him laughed. "I'm driving," he reminded the Welshman. "Ever tried driving in stilettos? I can assure you, it isn't good. For your nerves, the shoes, or the car. Don't worry though, gorgeous, the real shoes for the dinner are in the car."

Relieved, Ianto smiled, checking his watch. "Ah, I see. Well, on that note, WOW. And you're right on time."

Jack laughed. "Cherish the moment, gorgeous," he said. "It won't happen again."

"Can it happen tomorrow?" Ianto asked. "Please? Rhi will _kill_ me if I'm late for the ceremony."

Jack chuckled. "Well, ok. I think I might just about be able to manage that. Anyway, speaking of being on time… Shall we?"

"One moment," Ianto said.

Leaving Jack standing at the door, he headed back into the flat and picked something up from the kitchen table (which was, astonishingly enough, still standing.)

Back at the door, he presented Jack with the object with a shy smile.

"To say 'thank you' for the flowers," he explained. "That was a lovely thought. But how did you know they're my favourites?"

Jack raised an eyebrow at him and they answered in unison: "Gwen."

"I didn't ask her though!" Jack hastened to add. "She got sent flowers and so we got talking about them. Owen likes snowdrops, apparently."

Ianto blinked. "_Does_ he?"

Jack looked guilty. "Oops, was that meant to be a secret?"

Ianto grinned wickedly. "No. No, it's not meant to be a secret at all."

Jack laughed. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

The wicked grin grew. "Such a pity snowdrops are out of season…" Ianto mused.

Jack laughed again, then his face softened as he looked down at the single sapphire-blue rose in his hand.

"Thank you," he said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Ianto's cheek. "It's beautiful."

The Welshman blushed at the kiss. "Yeah, well…" he murmured. "So are the carnations. Anyway," he added with more composure, "here."

Bringing his other hand round from behind his back, he produced a tall bottle half-filled with water.

"So you can keep it fresh in the car," he explained.

Jack laughed. "So devastatingly practical!" he commented. "Is this really the same man who lasted three days with no furniture?"

Ianto chuckled, glancing at his watch. "No, this is the man whose sister is going to kill him if he doesn't leave for her rehearsal dinner _now_."

* * *

"Ianto!" Rhiannon's greeting was enthusiastic, and the Welshman smiled as he hugged his elder sister.

"You look gorgeous, Rhi."

"Of course I do," Rhiannon said breezily, kissing his cheek. "I'm the bride."

Releasing her brother and letting him move on to greet Johnny, she turned her attention to his companion.

"And you must be Jacqueline. I've heard so much about you."

Jack smiled. "Oh dear," he said huskily. "Should I start running?"

Rhiannon glanced down at his feet, encased in their delicate strappy silver sandals, and raised an eyebrow. "In those shoes?"

"You're right- I'll just stand here and use Johnny as a human shield."

Johnny frowned. "Why me?"

Jack grinned. "You're the groom- she's not gonna kill you until after the honeymoon sex."

Laughter circulated the group, then Rhiannon turned back to Jack, her expression growing grim.

"Ianto tells me you're not a couple... Why not? My brother not good enough for you?"

"Rhi!" Ianto hissed, mortified.

Jack cast a reassuring smile at the scarlet Welshman then focused on Rhiannon. "Your brother is very special, Miss Jones, and I'm blessed to have him as a friend. But we're both getting over difficult break-ups and we need some time and space to do that before we start dating again."

Rhiannon nodded, accepting the explanation, before turning away to greet her next guests. Relieved that the third degree was over for the moment, Ianto linked his arm through Jack's and drew the American away.

"Nicely put," he murmured, and Jack smiled.

"Contrary to popular belief, I _can _be tactful when the occasion calls for it."

Ianto smiled back, glancing at his watch. "Well, we've survived Round One," he commented. "But my parents will be here any second and doubtless they'll be bringing the big guns."

Jack laughed. "We'd best stick close to Johnny then."

Ianto was about to make a jokey comment in response when Jack's expression darkened. "Holy fucking shit!" he exclaimed, staring at the door. "Kill me, kill me now."

Ianto followed his gaze to where Rhiannon and Johnny were greeting a new guest, but could see nothing amiss.

"What's wrong?" he asked anxiously.

Jack responded with a question. "How the fuck does your sister know John Hart?"

The name 'John' set alarm bells ringing in Ianto's head, and his eyes widened. "Your ex?"

Jack grimaced. "Unfortunately."

"Fuck!" Ianto swore. "Does he know about the drag?"

The American frowned. "Yes and no," he said. "I did a sexy red-headed French maid for a fancy dress party when I was with him, but I never told him that I'm a transvestite and he's never seen me blonde."

Ianto sighed deeply. "I suppose all we can do is avoid him as much as possible and pray he doesn't recognise you."

"That's gonna be hard," Jack sighed in response. "I regret to have to inform you, gorgeous, but you're just his type. Give him free reign and he'll be hitting on you all evening."

"Damn!" Ianto swore again as he noticed the short skinny blonde he presumed to be John Hart heading over. "Divide and conquer?"

Jack grinned. "I'll rescue you shortly, gorgeous."

He pressed a kiss to Ianto's cheek and slipped away to mingle just moments before Hart reached them, a leer plastered to his face.

"Well hello there, Eye Candy!" Like Jack's, his accent was American, but unlike Jack's, it grated on Ianto's nerves. "What's your connection to the wedding then?"

Ianto neatly sidestepped the hand that Hart was attempting to place on his arm. "I'm the bride's brother, and I'm straight," he said.

"Nonsense!" Hart leered, letting his hand drop to his side. "Everyone is only eight pints away from being gay."

"Then I think I'll be stopping at seven," Ianto said coolly, blue eyes already frantically searching for Jack's rescue.

The rescue, when it came, did not actually come from the American. Ianto was just sidestepping another of Hart's attempts to paw his shoulder when a familiar voice rang out over the room.

"And where's Ifan? Where's my baby boy?"

Ianto turned as scarlet as his shirt. "I'm going to bloody kill her!" he muttered, hurrying as fast as possible in the direction of the noise. The sooner he reached his mother, the greater the chance of preventing her from calling out again...


End file.
